


Crossing Lines

by BulletproofFurniture



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), Pre-Slash, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletproofFurniture/pseuds/BulletproofFurniture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek really needs to learn to trust Stiles, especially when it comes to things like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing Lines

Derek isn’t sure he’s ever seen Stiles so quietly furious. He looms over Derek’s chair, and it takes him back to the days where he’d get caught sneaking cookies from his mother’s ceramic jar in the kitchen. The bittersweet nostalgia is nothing in the face of Stiles’ anger and disappointment.

It’s already been two minutes of grueling silence in the conference room, Derek’s head hung, hands between his knees. They’re the last two there. Stiles has never been so silent. Why is he so silent? “Stiles, I’m--”

“Don’t.” The quiet interruption is a slap to the face, and Derek can’t help a sharp inhalation. “Just. Don’t even. The only reason I haven’t said anything yet is because I don’t even know what to say.” Stiles rubs his face, then barks a bitter laugh. “For once in my life, I’m completely speechless.”

And it’s Derek’s fault.

-

_Stiles had always smelled...different. Derek couldn’t explain it - when everyone had their own scent, what was a unique scent within a unique scent? But as Stiles gesticulated wildly, conveying some dumb story to the rest of the pack, who were laughing uproariously, his odd scent wafted through the loft, impossible to ignore._

_Derek shook it off. It didn’t matter. He sat on the couch next to Stiles and shoved him easily, reaching for the remote to start the movie for pack night. Stiles just laughed and pinned Derek’s arm by leaning on it heavily. Derek halfheartedly tried to shake him off before giving into his fate. Stiles cackled at his tactical genius, and Derek couldn’t help_ _but grin._

-

Stiles starts pacing, jittery in the quiet. Derek can hear his heart racing, with anger, with terror, with adrenaline. “Like, you realize, right? You realize this is a gross invasion of my privacy?” Derek nods, flinches when Stiles whirls on him again. “No. No, you use your words. You don’t get to be a non-participant, here. You made me, now I’m making you.”

He’s right. “You’re right,” Derek says aloud, hoarse in his regret, head still hung. If he could shrink more into his seat, he would. “I invaded your privacy, and I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Stiles exclaims, incredulous. “It’s not just my privacy! Why did you even come here, Derek? Use your words and tell me why it was necessary for you to take away the last piece of privacy I had.” Derek hesitates.

-

_Stiles and Derek were the last ones of the pack at the diner, arguing the merits and downfalls of cultivating a wolfsbane garden. Derek paid the bill while Stiles wasn’t paying attention, and walked him back to his car as Stiles made some interesting, but not exactly persuasive, points._

_Stiles patted his Jeep lovingly and dug his hands into his pockets for his keys. “Thanks for humoring me, Derek. You’re the best wall to bounce my ideas off of. Maybe because my actual wall doesn’t have the eyebrows to convey their blatant disbelief at my cunning,” Stiles snickered, hooking his fingers over his own eyebrows to create a frankly ridiculous face._

_Derek barked out a laugh and stepped closer to Stiles. “Anytime,” he grinned, face tilted to Stiles’._

_Stiles rocked forward, eyes on Derek’s lips, before his heart stuttered and he took a hitched breath. He stepped away with a nervous grin, unlocking his Jeep with shaking hands. “See you later, Sourwolf,” he said with false cheer. Derek was just confused._

-

It’s a weak excuse, Derek knows. “The vampires,” he starts, haltingly. “They’re escalating, and I was…”

Stiles waits a moment, and when it’s clear that’s all Derek’s going to say, he rolls his eyes. “You were, what? Worried?

Derek nods, and belatedly adds, “Yes.” Use your words, Derek.

But Stiles doesn’t even notice, once more pacing the length of the conference room. The chairs are pushed against the walls, so there’s plenty of room for it. “Bullshit. That’s such bullshit! You know better than anyone I am prepared for anything,” Stiles emphasizes.

And he’s right about that, too. In almost every situation in which the pack has found themselves backed against a wall, Stiles has had some tool or some knowledge or some plan to get them the fuck out of dodge. Derek just hangs his head lower.

-

_Derek hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation, he really hadn’t. But werewolf hearing being what it is, and the walls in his loft being what they were, he could easily hear Scott asking Stiles to join him and Isaac to the movies because the new Deadpool movie was apparently “so fucking great, bro.”_

_“Aw, man, you know I’ve been wanting to see it!” Stiles exclaimed. “But I can’t. You know tomorrow’s Wednesday.” Wednesday? What was so important about Wednesday? (In the back of his mind, Derek could hear Stiles laughing so hard he almost threw up at a comparison Erica made between Derek and Wednesday Addams. Derek had not been amused, which had only served to make Stiles laugh harder.)_

_“Dude, come on!” Scott pleaded, surely pulling his puppy eyes on Stiles. “You always do the Wednesday thing, you could stand to miss once.” Thinking back, Derek realized he hadn’t seen Stiles on Wednesday afternoons or evenings. Where was he going?_

_“Scott, you know I owe those guys a lot,” Stiles said gently, so softly Derek had to strain to hear what he was saying. “I can’t skip.”_

_“Yeah, I know,” Scott sighed, disappointed. A moment later, he said brightly, “I’ll just take you some other time! I wouldn’t mind seeing it more than once.” Stiles laughed, and Derek wondered if Wednesdays were related to the incident in the diner parking lot. And the incident in Stiles’ room. Or at the grocery store. Or Stiles’ scent…_

-

“So try again, Derek,” Stiles says, arms crossed. “Pull up another excuse for why you invaded my privacy and broke my trust.” Derek flinches, and slumps in despair. He really has broken Stiles’ trust.

“I...was curious,” he finally admits. “And I could cite cultural differences, no secrets in the pack, and so on, but that wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“You’re damn right,” Stiles snaps. “Everyone has secrets in this goddamn pack, and this was my last one. This was the last thing I had to myself and you took that away from me.”

“Stiles, I--”

“You outed me and you invaded what was supposed to be a safe space, for myself and the rest of these people, and--”

“Please, Stiles--”

“--and you obviously don’t even care because you’re trying to talk over me--”

“Can I see?” Derek blurts, and is immediately horrified with himself. He just said that. Why did he say that?

-

_Derek parked the Camaro next to Stiles’ blue Jeep, long since left by its owner. Derek could hear Stiles’ heartbeat in the office building, a few floors up, surrounded by several others. Everyone was calm, if a bit nervous. No danger, then._

_Still, Derek couldn’t resist going up the stairs, all the way to the fourth floor, to stand in front of the nondescript conference room door. There was no signage to indicate what the room was for, other than the room number, 412, in numbers and Braille below it. He could hear quiet murmuring inside. Derek steeled himself, and pushed the door open._

_The few people who weren’t talking quietly amongst themselves looked up at Derek, startled. After a few moments, even the chatting groups were staring. Derek flushed, and quickly found a seat in the ring of chairs that lined the room. Stiles was turned away from him, laughing at something someone else said. After a moment, he turned to where Derek was, and the laughter died on his lips. He stared at Derek, and a dozen emotions passed over his eyes. Disbelief, fear, anger, disappointment, and finally resignation._

_Stiles’ watch beeped, breaking him from his staring contest with Derek, and he looked down at his wrist before pasting a smile on his face. “Alright everyone,” he spoke to the group. “In about five minutes, we’ll get started! Make sure you fill in the sign in form if you’re comfortable with it!”_

_Stiles turned away from Derek, the set of his shoulders tense, as he got ready for...whatever this was supposed to be. Derek took the time to catalogue the people around him._

_There was a mix of people from different walks of life. Some twenty-somethings with piercings, some middle aged adults, and one man who looked like he was in his mid-sixties. Most everyone there was rather....alternative looking._

_“Alright, let’s get started,” Stiles called again, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Thanks for coming to group, everyone! I see lots of familiar faces, and a couple new ones! So we’ll get started with introductions. Say your name, your pronouns, and tell us how your week has been! I’ll start. I’m Stiles, he/his, and my week up to this point has been pretty great!”_

_Stiles sat back down and indicated the person next to him. It was an older lady, long hair framing her face and closely-shaven stubble clinging to her cheeks. “I’m Mary Anne,” she said in a light tenor. “She/her. My week’s been awful.”_

_And so it went on, and Derek realized, finally. what this group was. And Derek felt awful._

_He’d crashed Stiles’ trans support group._

_The circle came around to him, and everyone stared at him expectantly. “I’m Derek. Uh, he/his. Week’s been alright.” People nodded, accepting, and the circle moved on. Stiles very carefully didn’t look at Derek._

-

Stiles is shocked, mouth actually agape. And then he’s furious again, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t -- I didn’t -- I really like you, Stiles,” he tries again, speaking quickly, trying to defuse the situation before Stiles, growing angrier by the second, explodes. “And you know that. In every way I know how, I’ve let you know. And you kept pushing me away.” Stiles’ anger seems to pause at that, a little. Derek pushes on. “I couldn’t figure out why, no one else would tell me. You never outright said no, just sounded sad and a little nervous before completely running away. This was the only thing I could think it could be, and I was right, wasn’t I?” Stiles shrinks into himself, now, arms crossed defensively, heart tripping over itself.

Derek nods. “I was right. And it still wasn’t fair of me to follow you here, it wasn’t right, but if you’d still be up for it...I’d like to, I don’t know, go get dinner? Sometime?” Not tonight. Obviously not tonight.

It’s quiet for a little, while Stiles thinks. Derek lets him. It’s the least he could do, after this mess.

-

_When the introductions had reached Stiles again, he smiled brightly. “Great job, everyone. I’ll go through the rules real quick, and discussion can get started. Number one - confidentiality. This group is a safe space, so please try not to accidentally out someone if you see them outside of group, and try not to indicate where you know them from. Number two…”_

_Stiles listed the rules from memory, and people nodded all around him. All of the rules were catered toward keeping a safe space and keeping the members of the group safe. Derek was the worst._

_Discussion started, and it was awkwardly quiet until one kid - Allen, Derek remembered - piped up. “Well, uh, it’s my first week here at group. I’ve never done anything like this before, so this is officially the first step of my journey! Thanks for being so welcoming!” Everyone clapped quietly, happy grins on their faces. Allen’s friend next to him nudged him, grinning proudly._

_After that, discussion continued in earnest, and there was hardly a silence between conversations. So many people had so many concerns, and so many others had solutions - Stiles in particular was very outspoken, speaking from experience to give advice and smooth ruffled feathers._

_Derek was both proud and devastated. Stiles was so strong and so helpful, and Derek...Derek hadn’t trusted him. At all. He’d barged right in to make space for himself without thinking of Stiles. He’d be lucky if Stiles ever deigned to speak to him again._

_After a couple hours, Stiles clapped his hands together one more time. “Alright! Now that the discussion portion is over, we’ll move into the mixer. After every meeting, some of us will head to the diner to hang out and chat. I won’t be joining you tonight, ‘cause I’ve got some stuff I need to take care of.” The group ‘awwed,’ apparently sad he’d be missing out. Derek felt worse. “You guys go ahead, and I’ll see you next week!”_

_The room cleared out slowly, some people hanging behind for conversations, until only Derek and Stiles were left, alone._

-

“That was a lot of words, Sourwolf,” Stiles jokes weakly. Derek nods lamely, relieved. If Stiles is calling him names, it means things will turn up, eventually. “I need some time to myself, to think,” Stiles says quietly. “I’m not gonna come around for a few days. And you’re not going to creep around my house,” Stiles shoots at him, and Derek can only nod again. After a moment, Stiles nods slowly. “I’ll text you for dinner, when I’m ready. Okay?”

Derek keeps nodding, so relieved he almost can’t breathe, and Stiles chuckles. “Use your words, Sourwolf.”

“Yeah,” Derek breathes. “Yeah, okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me some crit! Thanks for reading!


End file.
